


In which Tom just wants to smash

by plsnskanks (orphan_account)



Series: spooky au [1]
Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Monster Tom, Vampire Matt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-11-01 17:46:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10926879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/plsnskanks





	In which Tom just wants to smash

Tom gives them a new window Saturday night. It’s obviously not optimal, and if they didn’t have a ward around their house curtesy of Tord, it would probably be an issue their local HOA would bring up with them. But they’ve taken care of that, they’ve got it under control.

What they don’t have under control is their massive behemoth housemate who put his fist through their living room wall for no particular reason other than repressed agitation from not shifting often enough. 

It’s been a stupid reoccurring problem. Tom doesn’t shift. His mood drops. He drinks. His bodily functions become outside his control and thus their current predicament manifests itself.

It’s so common they take turns dealing with it.

“Alright Matt, it’s your turn,” Edd sighs as Tom struggles to pull his fist out of their drywall. His tail thrashes angrily and whips their coffee table across the room against a wall where one of its legs breaks.

Great. Guess they’re going to IKEA later. Again. Almost every piece of furniture in the house has been downgraded to something of minimal value that is easy to replace and has no sentimental value. Everything that was not considered such either got put into storage already or broken.

“Do I have to?” Matt whined. Honestly it was becoming a chore at this point. Getting Tom to shift back took at least an hour and often involved some sort of physical incentive. Whether that was violence or sex was dependent on who was handling the situation and the reason behind Tom’s shift.

“I can handle it,” Tord said, grinning widely at Matt, canines glistening. His tail flicked behind him, a telltale sign that nothing boded well for Tom or Matt’s beauty sleep if he let Tord “handle” it. Tord’s solution to almost every problem was sex. 

Honestly. He was like a teenager in the body of a centuries old hell spawn. All that power, absolutely no responsibility.

“Yeah. No. I’m sure we’ll get another window if I let you handle it,” Matt said, flicking his eyes back to Tom who was still struggling to free himself. Best to act now while he’s pinned down.

Tord pouted, “Honestly, I’m the only one that has any fun when he’s like this.”

“It would probably turn out less disastrous if you maybe didn’t have so much fun,” Edd pointed out. 

“Either way, Matt, it’s your problem, I’m going to bed. Try to keep him from destroying any integral support beams.”

With that Edd left to go upstairs. Matt turned to Tord.

“What about you?”

“He’s feisty tonight, I can smell it, I’m going to stick around. This will be entertaining,” Tord grinned.

“Do you ever take pleasure from anything that isn’t sex or other people’s misery?” Matt sighed. He guessed he would have to handle this with a peanut gallery unless Tord was feeling benevolent enough to go be a nuisance somewhere else. 

“Nah.”

Alright then. With an echoing crack Tom rips his arm free of the wall with an angry roar. Timing is everything and Matt just fucked it all up by letting himself bicker for the remainder of his grace period. 

Shit.

Tom takes a heavy first swing at the two of them and maybe Tord is finding things a lot less funny now that his body is slamming into the other side of their living room. Matt doesn’t even bother to glance back to make sure he’s okay. As far as wherewithal, Tord is highest on the totem pole followed by himself, fully shifted Tom, and lastly Edd. 

“Ach, you little bitch. Wait till my turn next time,” Tord wheezes, glowering at his housemate. Tom doesn’t seem to comprehend his words as he takes another swing, this time aiming for Matt. With a quick jump back he manages to dodge it, but the second swing from his opposite hand catches Matt in the ribs.

Oh boy has it been a while, pain old friend.

He gets hit by a wall of agony as the force essentially collapses his ribcage. He lands outside Tom’s range a crumpled heap on the floor. He plays dead as Tom lets out a roar. He has the memory of a goldfish and the rage of a toddler in his terrible two’s in this state. Matt has no clue why this appeals to Tord so much but he can feel some fury of his own building in his gut as he lays still, letting his bones reknit and his body essentially uncrumple itself.

As Tom is crossing the room to hit Tord with another swing again, intent only on mashing every living organism into pulp at this point, Matt throws a mental signal of STOP his way. If he wanted, he could get inside Tom’s head, take a look at his current emotional state, but Matt has already learned the hard way that this isn’t a good idea.

It’s like mike reverb, he gets a flood of rage, nausea, and distress. Just an overwhelming feedback of emotions that get translated into violence as a way of dealing with their massive and oppressive presence.

He can’t even bite him in this state. He tried once. Tord and Edd had to take care of Tom that time while Matt puked his guts out in the bathroom. Tom’s blood tastes like ichor in this state, it frankly isn’t edible and is probably toxic.

So he’s got his strength on his side, his healing factor, and that’s it. At least until he can get Tom to shift down. Even his three quarter state isn’t this bad. Not ideal but easily manageable by comparison.

Tom is about to swing down on Tord when Matt throws a sharp whistle his way, now that both his lungs are functional again, distracting Tom and giving Tord time to roll out from under him. Tord does so and then gives him a nod of thanks. Matt jerks his head roughly to the side as a sort of non-verbal “Now get the fuck out”.

Praise glory in heaven above, Tord actually listens and turns to leave. It’s probably fueled more by self-preservation than any real desire to obey, but Matt could care less. He’s ticked off now and with Tord out of the way he is gearing himself up for an all out brawl with the monster before him. He stares Tom down and the rumble in Tom’s chest gets louder and louder at his impudence.

Tom charges him from across the room. Matt is up on the couch and then up in the air. He’s dodged Tom’s first rush and he manages to get behind him while Tom is trying to figure out where he is. He has a low field of view in this state and it makes it easier for Matt to take advantage of his blind spots.

Tom’s open and unshielded back yields itself to him as Matt creeps around Tom’s peripheral. Matt jumps on, digging his fingers into the dense skin under him. He’s sure it stings as he merely digs his claws in deeper as Tom tries to buck him off. He’s got one destination in mind. Tom is turning around furiously like a dog chasing his tail in an attempt to throw Matt off, letting out snarls and growls as Matt refuses to release his grip.

Matt holds on for dear life, and in the lulls in activity, he makes his way up Toms back. Gradually, enduring the inertia and the rough bucking, Matt reaches out and feels his destination in his hand. 

Tom’s horn. One of them at least. It’s this smooth protrusion that is colored deep purple and has subtle alternating shades. It’s beautiful and majestic and absolutely the biggest weak spot on Tom’s entire body excepting his groin.

Matt digs his fingers into the soft skin around the horn. All at once the frantic shaking and bucking stops and Tom lets out this loud high pitched shriek that makes every hair on Matt’s body stand on end. 

It isn’t pleasant. He hates doing it this way.

Especially since he would never dream of doing something similar to Tom in human form, even if he might enjoy it. 

The shriek curls off into a whine and then finally a whimper as the body under him keels over into a laying position. Tom’s ears flick back into a submissive pose and Matt feels a small bit of relief at that. He doesn’t want to push this any further than it has already gone. 

“Shift down Tom,” He says softly, sending Tom a mental image of what he wants him to do. He isn’t sure how comprehending he is in this state. Apparently not much. He gets another whine and it’s of a different kind. A kind that would make Matt scarlet if he still could blush.

The tail behind him flicks in apprehension as Tom tilts his rear up towards the ceiling. Matt sighs. Maybe he really, really, should have just let Tord handle this. 

“If you want that, can you at least shift down? Even to three-quarter? Anything?”

Nope. Nada. Tom seemed to be too out of it. All the rampage gone out of him, replaced by the biological need that had spurred on the anger in the first place. Then he finally gets a response.

He feels the body under him start to shrink little by little. He hits his three quarter form and Matt’s legs can touch the ground again on either side. He keeps going and finally stops in his half shifted state.

“Can’t go down any farther?” Matt said as he got off the prone form in front of him.

“No….”

Matt sighed. “Okay, that’s okay, what do you need right now?”

“Can we just. I just want to fuck and be done with it. My emotions are all over the place,” Tom said laying his head down against the cool floor and looking miserable.

He snaps his head up again as he remembers something, “Did I hurt someone?”

Matt thinks about telling him the truth very briefly. Then discards the idea, “Not really, you gave Tord a wallop but you know him, borderline impossible to get rid of.”

Tom smiles but doesn’t look like he fully believes him, “I could have sworn I remember hitting you? You sure you’re alright?”

“I’m perfectly fine I swear, I just don’t like hurting you.”

Tom goes to rub at one of his horns. Matt quickly grabs his hand. There’s a trickle of blood, actual human blood, making its way down Tom’s face.

“The same goes for you,” Matt says as he swipes the blood away from the injured horn.

“Can I shift a little further when we do this? It’s been a while and I honestly think I might go full form again if I don’t,” Tom says, looking down at his clawed hands.

“Sure, it’s fine, I handle it, don’t worry,” Matt said as he ran a hand through Tom’s tousled and matted hair. He was a mess. He smelled like sweat and blood and would definitely be getting a bath before he went anywhere near clean sheets of any kind.

Tom lets himself shift a little farther, his frame grows a little more, his skin overall darkens, and his horns come out a bit father as well as his tail. Matt grabs at the flicking appendage as it attempts to whip by him. He squeezes it low at the base near Tom’s crotch. It’s a firm grip, not enough to cause pain, just enough to incite a reaction.

Indeed it does. Matt finds a glistening opening pushed up farther towards him as Tom lays his face down against the floor, squashing his cheek against the hardwood. His blood still tastes like shit in this state, but Matt can use coercion without the sensory mishap occurring, so he allows himself a bit of fun.

He doesn’t like outright commanding Tom to do anything, with a few minor exceptions. It’s Tom. Even in his shifted state Matt still looks on him as a human, if only for the fact that he can’t fight back against any of Matt’s supernatural powers, or even sense them like Edd or Tord could.

Instead he gives suggestions, little snippets of imagery or sound that give Tom an idea of what he wants and a little tug towards putting that thought into action. It’s still intrusive, yes, but Tom is free to say no or express his lukewarm feelings about an idea.

He rarely does though.  
And that’s how Matt ends up with Tom spreading himself for his viewing pleasure, clawed hands gently pulling apart either cheek and letting Matt have a nice long look as his cunt drips fluid and his ungodly large cock drips precum.

Alright, he’ll admit he is beginning to see the appeal of Tom in this form now.

Matt keeps his grip on Tom’s tail and pulls harder at the base, obviously not enough to hurt him, but just firm enough to send sparks of pleasure up and down Tom’s spine and to his groin, where his privates show Matt exactly how much they are enjoying his treatment. 

He gets this weird guttural sort of whimper, that borderlines menacing.

“Hey now, who’s in charge here,” Matt teases. Tom’s ears flatten back in response and Matt takes that as his cue.

He unbuckles his pants, and those ears perk right back up again in excitement. He gets a little anxious over the shoulder glance and then a happy noise of some odd medley of vocals. He doesn’t really have to worry about size when he fucks Tom in this state. His frame is considerably bigger and Matt is probably lucky if he is considered average to on the small side for Tom.

Doesn’t seem to stop Tom from enjoying it though. As Matt is fully inside, Tom looks over again at Matt, sending him a needy little stare as he waits patiently for Matt to move. 

“I got you Tom, I got you. I just need a little moment, you give me whiplash sometimes,” Matt says. It’s true. One moment Tom is fighting, the next moment he wants fucking. He isn’t like this for Matt usually. He’s all sweetness and tentative tenderness. Matt brings out his softer side and he loves it. 

In this state though, Tom brings out Matt’s carnal side. He isn’t a meal, prey, he’s a fuck and one Matt had to fight into submission. What’s before him now is a prize, a reward. Every nerve in Matt’s body and every word of body language from Tom is screaming for him to claim it.

So he does. Matt snaps his hips in a hard jab followed by another and another, he is slowly edging Tom forward along the ground as he goes until Tom bumps the couch. There he just leans against it, head on one of the cushions as Matt just goes at him.

He can feel all his pent up predatory emotions coming to surface, and for once he lets himself indulge in having a weaker body under him, under his power. Tom is squirming under him, his fangs are embedded in the couch cushion as Matt starts to stroke the underside of his tail. Its tip is twitching in his grip, at an agitated tempo.

It’s good, it’s so good. Tom craved this, that force holding him down and forcing him to take it, that hand relentlessly stroking him as Matt reams him from behind. His dick has made a small splotch of precum on the floor and Tom can feel a heat building low in his stomach, a tightness that makes him want to writhe and escape the torturous pleasure Matt is forcing him to indulge in.

“You like this? You like being a bad little thing so one of us has to go handle you? Hmm?”

He isn’t sure if Matt is saying those words aloud or in his head but either way Tom gives a desperate little nod. That hand moves down to touch his aching cock, give it a little tug. Matt continues his thrusting putting a hand on Tom’s head and forcing him father down into the couch as he picks up his pace.

It’s hard enough to hurt and Tom likes it. Matt would never do this to him in any form or any situation but this and that fact drives Tom nuts. Even now as he is pounding him into the couch like he is a protruding nail, there’s something protective about Matt’s actions.

Tom gets the feeling nothing Matt does is ever entirely just for his own pleasure. It makes his heart ache a little at that, in an odd bittersweet kind of way.

That heartache stops when he gets this sudden urge, sudden vivid visual of himself coming.

That dirty bastard.

Whether he intended to or not, Tom is coming, it hits the floor in a hard splatter. Maybe Matt isn’t entirely as altruistic as Tom pinned him to be. It’s clear he isn’t done yet.

Tom tries to pull himself up a bit off the couch, get a better grip on his position.

“Nu-uh. No. You destroyed our living room, we’re going to make sure your biological needs are well met before I am done with you. You need to stop, imagine a big red stop sign, okay?” Matt says.

He continues his pace and the heat around him gets tighter as Tom starts to shift down to his half formed state. He doesn’t have the stamina to endure Matt’s fucking and keep his form. Matt fucks him through his shift, which is an odd, though not unpleasant experience. 

Tom can really feel the ache and the stretch now. His cunt is smaller and shallower and god Matt is big and he is going hard and fast. No way in hell is he going to complain now, lest Matt start treating him like a porcelain doll again.

Matt leans down over Tom, pressing his chest against Tom’s back. Tom feels a sharp prickle and a rush of pure good as a wash of euphoria overcomes him. He isn’t sure if he is coming or not.

Matt meanwhile is enjoying a light snack. Tom’s blood still has a bitter tint to it, an underlying tone that hints something is not quite right, but it still generally tastes like Tom. It’s mellow with small notes of something indescribable. It’s a tang he’s never tasted in anyone else. It reminds him of pineapple a bit if he is being honest.

Matt pulls out as he feels Tom gives out completely, collapsing against the couch and coming down into his fully human form hard. He feels a tidal wave of exhaustion hit him as he just slumps in Matt’s grip. The shift is sudden and it happens while Matt is still drinking from him. 

“Shit, did I take too much? Do we need to get you to a hospital?” Matt asks, instantly drawing back and licking the wound closed. He puts a gentle hand on his back.

Tom can’t even bother to try and face him. 

“No, no. It just hit me fast all at once. I don’t think we have ever done anything like that in one night and my body isn’t really up to speed,” Tom says.

Matt can feel his thoughts fuzzing in and out intermittently so he picks up the limp body and cradles it to him. He surveys the living room, and wow, yeah. It’s a complete wreck. Tom tore open the cushions biting them, the coffee table is done for, there’s a giant hole in the wall.

None of it is salvageable.

Matt ignores the mess of a house for the moment and focuses on his mess of a housemate.

He takes Tom upstairs and decides he won’t make him go through the whole song and dance routine of a shower, washing his hair, and wrapping his cuts and bruises in bandages. Instead he wets down a wash cloth and wipes at the blood on Tom’s forehead and then wipes at his lower regions. He gets a new washcloth and wipes down the rest of Tom, getting the salt and stench of sweat and sex off him, or at least toning it down so it can be dealt with reasonably tomorrow.

Tom falls asleep in the middle of it, on the toilet. His head slumps down and he keels forward. Matt catches him. He doesn’t wake up, so he just props him against the toilet and finishes his job. He picks up Tom and lays him in his own bed.

He doesn’t sleep but it’s fine. He likes to think of idle things, or watch Tom’s expressions as he dreams. He doesn’t think it’s right to peer in on Tom’s dreams. Those are intimate, personal things. But he does watch Tom’s small expressions and murmurs in his sleep.

Sometimes he hears his own name. A snippet of it or a chopped up pronunciation.

It makes handling these sorts of things easier. Mishap or not, he’s pleased with his little monster.


End file.
